


Monster Movie Fever

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Series: Best Laid Plans Series [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha!Dean, Alpha!Sam, Angst, Drinking, F/M, Marking, Reader-Insert, Self-Mutilation, a/b/o dynamics, omega!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26263048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: Y/n is having trouble with John's absence and Dean's attempts to live his life to the fullest now that he's back from Hell.~~~“We called ahead about your, uh, problem.”“Right. Um...why don’t we talk this out away from the crowd, huh?” The sheriff cleared his throat when you tried to follow. “The morgue is an omega-free space. Our coroner has an aversion.”“Excuse me?” Sam asked, confused.“It’s fine, Sam. Take pictures, fill me in later. I’ll go back to the room...since I’m obviously not welcome in Canonsburg.”“Hey, we don’t have a problem with omegas in Canonsburg. It’s just...our coroner-”“I’ve heard all the excuses in the past, Sheriff,” you interrupted. “I’m obviously not going to fight you about it. I don’t have the energy.”“How you gonna get there?” Dean asked, quietly.“It’s called a taxi, Dean,” you snapped, slapping your barely-eaten pretzel into his chest and walking away.You curled up on the couch and pulled out your phone, dialing John’s number for the hundredth time. The same message. The same pain in your heart at hearing it. You just wanted him to answer. Hearing his voice on the outgoing wasn’t helping you anymore.
Relationships: Jamie (Supernatural: Monster Movie)/Dean Winchester
Series: Best Laid Plans Series [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1526507
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	Monster Movie Fever

**Story Warnings** : angst...A/B/O dynamics, canon divergence, angst, physical violence, mentions of forced marking, rejection sickness, mentions of noncon, mentions of self-mutilation, did I mention angst?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You rolled your eyes at the polka music. Oktoberfest. Beer, polka, pretzels, women in dirndls and braids...of course Dean was happy to be there.

“We still got to see the new Raiders movie,” Dean said, adjusting his suit jacket.

“Saw it,” you and Sam said at the same time.

“Without me?” Dean responded incredulously.

“You were in Hell,” Sam defended.

“That’s no excuse.”

“Crystal Skull sucked anyway. Best thing was Cate Blanchett as a hot Nazi,” you said.

Dean cut his eyes at you for a minute before looking past you. “Big pretzel!” Sam smiled and shook his head as Dean walked away toward the pretzel cart. Dean bought three pretzels and handed them out. You weren’t really hungry, hadn’t been since John left, but you nibbled on the bread to distract yourself as Dean ogled a blond in a dirndl, his eyes following the pretty beta until she disappeared into a tavern across the courtyard.

“Looks like that’s our man,” Sam said, gesturing at the sheriff. You and Dean followed Sam over. “Sheriff Dietrich.”

“Are you the boys...and lady...from the fed?” the sheriff asked.

“Agents Angus, Young, and Scott,” Sam answered as the three of you showed your badges. Dietrich leaned forward and gave extra attention to your badge before straightening. “We called ahead about your, uh, problem.”

“Right. Um...I’ll tell you what, why don’t we talk this out away from the crowd, huh?” The sheriff cleared his throat and put a hand up when you tried to follow. “The morgue is an omega-free space. Our coroner has an aversion.”

“Excuse me?” Sam asked, confused. “An ‘aversion’?”

“It’s fine, Sam. Take pictures, fill me in later. I’ll go back to the room...since I’m obviously not welcome in Canonsburg.”

“Hey, it’s not like that. We don’t have a problem with omegas in Canonsburg. It’s just...our coroner-”

“I’ve heard all the excuses in the past, Sheriff,” you interrupted. “I’m obviously not going to fight you about it. I don’t have the energy.”

“How you gonna get there?” Dean asked, quietly.

“It’s called a taxi, Dean,” you snapped, slapping your barely-eaten pretzel into his chest and walking away.

You curled up on the couch and pulled out your phone, dialing John’s number for the hundredth time. “ _You’ve reached John Winchester. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean. If this is Y/n, I’m sorry I left without saying ‘goodbye’. Stay with the boys. I’ll find you._ ” The same message. The same pain in your heart at hearing it. You just wanted him to answer. Hearing his voice on the outgoing wasn’t helping you anymore.

“John...I know I’m not gonna hear from you until next month when you need me, but...I just wanted to say sorry. I’m sorry that you’re _going_ to need me next month. I’m sorry that I made you mark me. I should have just accepted my fate and gone to Sam instead of stealing the last bit of connection you had with Mary. I’m so sorry, John.”

Your stomach hurt. It literally felt like your intestines had been twisted into knots. You weren’t hungry, you just wanted to sleep, you were exhausted. It was worse when you were alone. Worse still when you were with Dean. Sam’s presence provided a little relief but you wouldn’t let yourself get close to him.

You pulled your wallet out of your jacket pocket and unzipped the change pocket, pulling out the drachma and twirling it between your fingers. You didn’t want to be alone...and you missed Hades and Persephone. You needed a bit of friendly company. You walked out to the small patch of garden in front of the motel and buried the drachma.

“I was beginning to think we would never hear from you again, louloudi mou,” Hades’ deep voice said. You immediately jumped to your feet and wrapped your arms around him, barely recognizing that his massive frame had been stuffed into human street clothes; a pair of jeans and a black zip-up hoodie. He patted the top of your head and moved to run his hand up and down you back as you hugged him. “You are not well.”

You sobbed into the alpha’s chest and held him tighter. “ _No_! No, I’m not.”

“Would you like me to go get Persophone?” Hades asked.

“Please.”

He pulled away and reappeared with his queen a moment later. She was wearing a flowing pink dress that didn't seem to hide her goddess status as well as it should. She wrapped you in her arms and shushed you as you cried into her cleavage. It wasn’t until you were done crying that they pulled away and Hades handed you the drachma back.

“We’ve not heard from you in so long, agapite mou. What have we missed?” Persephone asked.

“Sam stole the drachma so I couldn’t call to you. I got it back a few weeks ago. This is the first time I’ve been alone long enough to...to use it.” You licked your lips as you tucked the drachma into your bra. “Everything got so...messed up.”

“They’ve marked you,” Hades said.

“Sam did...and John...but that was just to keep me from going to Sam when I went into heat.. Dean went to Hell and came back. Sam lost his mind when Dean died and he marked me in a rage and John marked me to fix it and then John left. He left me. I...I feel so...I just needed to be around people who hadn’t ever hurt me.”

“Oh, agapite mou! I’m so sorry they’ve treated you so!” Persephone exclaimed.

“Perhaps we should take you with us back to the Underworld. Some time in Elysium may heal the hurt in you,” Hades suggested.

“I can’t leave them.”

“Have they not left you?” He gestured around. “Where are your alphas? Not here.”

“Sam’s in town with Dean on a job. John is...gone, I told you.” You shook your head and wiped at your tear-drenched eyes. “I’m just tired. I don’t need to go heal in Elysium.”

Persephone looked to her alpha who nodded. “You must take care of yourself, Y/n. You have two marks on your being and you’re all alone. Two alphas, yet...you’re sick.”

“I’m going to be fine. I just need...to hack it ‘til John comes back.”

“And he _is_ coming back?” Hades asked, an eyebrow raising.

“He said he’d find me,” you whispered.

The Greeks exchanged a look before Persephone took your hand. "Come. We'll go to your room. We will have ouzo and galaktoboureko and you'll feel better."

"I'm not really hungry, but ouzo sounds-"

"You will eat! Unless you wish to end up in The Fields of Mourning, you must eat, Y/n," she insisted. She knew how much the idea of being an omega stereotype didn't appeal to you.

"Fine. Galaktoboureko sounds good, too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam and Dean stopped in their tracks when they opened the motel door to see you sitting at the small square table with two strangers, three bottles of ouzo and a half-eaten rectangular pie sitting in front of you. "Oh! They're back! An' Dean smells like lust so must've been productive meeting that wid'ness."

"She has had a bit much to drink," Persephone said, standing and running her hands down the front of her dress. "Though, I suppose that's not abnormal for your kind. I always forget moderation is so important when drinking with humans."

"And what are _you_?" Dean asked.

"Show some respec' for the only friends I got!" you demanded. "They came all the way from th'underworld to see me an' you can...can...what was I saying?"

"Oh! Dean, they must be Hades and Persephone." Sam stepped forward and offered his hand to the gods, but both eyed the gesture with disdain. Sam cleared his throat and dropped his hand after a minute as Dean looked around Persephone to you. "I've read your legends and Y/n spoke highly of you."

"She once spoke highly of _you_ as well, Sam. Before," Hades said.

"So, what, you just decided to come get her drunk in the middle of our hunt?" Dean snapped.

"We endeavored to heal her heart with revels," Hades answered, tossing a glance over his shoulder at you. "It is better to see her inebriated on the surface than lost to the Mourning Fields below."

"Great. So, what's the hangover like on ouzo? We talking brandy or beer?" Dean asked, pulling his tie off and tossing it on the bed.

"Nunya, Dean. I'll deal with my headover and hangache all by myself." You picked up a piece of the custard and phyllo pie and took a bite. "An' this is mine. No pie for you, ya jerk."

"What did _I_ do?" Dean asked, angrily.

"Figure it out, dumbass," you snapped, standing on wobbly legs and hugging the gods. "Thank you for coming. You two are the best in the world and all the Underworlds and I love you and this galaktoboureko and if I throw it up, I'm sorry that's the ouzo not me."

"We know, louloudi mou. Rest. Call us again when your heart needs us." Hades patted your head and pushed you toward the closest bed, which you collapsed on.

Persephone turned her head just enough to look at Dean with her periphery. “You make assumptions based on falsities and our flower wilts under your disattention.”

Dean’s eyebrows came together as he tried to process the goddess’ words. “Yeah, whatever, lady,” he said eventually.

Hades turned to Sam. "Fix this, Sam Winchester. You do not want to see Tartarus, do you?" he threatened before taking his wife's hand and walking out past Sam.

“What the hell is that all about?” Dean asked, looking down at you.

Sam cleared his throat. “I-I don’t know, man. Let’s, uh...she took one of the beds. I-I’ll just take the couch.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke early, before Sam but somehow not before Dean. He was gone from the room. You expected a hangover, but there wasn’t one. “Mount Olympian Ouzo for the win,” you whispered, slipping off the bed and tiptoeing to the bathroom. You felt a bit better after your night with Hades and Persephone. A little less omega and a little more hunter.

By the time you got out of the bathroom, Sam was awake and stretching his muscles out. “Hey,” he greeted when you exited.

“Hey. Dean?” you asked, gesturing at the empty bed.

“Breakfast burritos.”

“Ah.” You nodded and looked away from him. “I’m thinking of leaving.”

“But what about-”

“Your dad still isn’t answering his phone and I’m not big on hanging around in omega-restricted places so-”

“What about your pining sickness?” Sam asked, standing and walking closer. You bristled at the idea that what you were feeling was ‘pining sickness’. “You being close to _one_ of your alphas is the only thing keeping you from going into rejection-”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I’m fine. I was a little depressed but now I’m okay. I had a few drinks and some pie and it’s fine. I’m just gonna go back to Bobby’s.”

“No. Don’t. Please,” Sam begged. He moved like he was going to touch you, but he stopped himself. “I know I don’t have a right to stop you from leaving, but...you should stay with us. If you leave...Dean, he’s...he’s never gonna figure out-”

“If he hasn’t figured out I’m in love with him by now, then he’s an idiot and we both know he’s not,” you snapped. “No, much more likely, he doesn’t want me because I’m not his perfect, normal archetype like Lisa. He doesn’t want me...so fuck him. I’m going-”

“Please, don’t go. I don’t want you sick. If you leave-”

“I can make it two weeks until John tracks me down.”

“Then make it those two weeks with us. Please.” Sam sighed as he heard the Impala pull into the parking lot. “Please.”

You shook your head and sighed. “Fine. I’ll stay...for now.”

Sam seemed grateful for it, but you were almost immediately made to regret it as the case progressed. Another body dropped, torn apart by a wolf, but not a werewolf you knew of. Not that you got to see the body. You did get to see the blond in the dirndl set a date with Dean during dinner at the bar. Sam looked over at you as you stiffened, trying to hold down your upset.

A third body was found before midnight, a security guard. Dean didn’t stick around past finding out that the mummy was making his own fog with dry ice. He had a date. “Oh, damn it. Jamie. I’m late. You guys are good here with the mummy and the...crazy?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Sam answered.

Dean nodded, letting out a ‘yeah’ of his own before leaving. You took a deep breath as you watched him practically skip out of the museum. Your stomach hurt again. “So glad I hung around for this.”

“Y/n,” Sam started.

You shook your head. “No. This is bullshit, obviously. I’m going back to the motel.” You pulled your phone out as you walked away. You dialed John’s number. Same message. You weren’t sure what you were expecting. You and Sam were both out of your fed suits by the time Dean called to say he and Jamie were attacked and he needed you at the tavern.

“Hey,” Sam said as the two of you entered the bar. “You guys all right?”

“Yeah, I think so. And I think I know what’s going on,” Dean answered, pulling out a towel and placing it on the table.

“Yeah?”

“Part of it, at least,” Dean said.

Sam flipped open the towel open to reveal an ear. “Uh, the ear part?” Sam asked.

“Ripped it off of Dracula’s head. Touch it,” Dean demanded. You and Sam both reached out and poked the ear, grimacing at the feel. “Feel familiar to you?”

“Oh, man,” Sam said as you whispered, “Shifter.”

“Skin of a shapeshifter. Just like St. Louis and just like Milwaukee,” Dean confirmed. “Of course this one’s all holding buckets of crazy. Oh, and, uh…” Dean pulled a medallion on a ribbon out of his pocket and handed it to his brother. “This. I, uh, pulled it off during the fight. Look at the label on the ribbon.”

You watched as Sam flipped the ribbon over to look at the label which read, “THE FX SHOP PROPHOUSE PHILADELPHIA, PA.”

“It’s a costume rental,” Sam said, scoffing.

“All three monsters...the Dracula, Wolf Man, and the Mummy...all the same critter, which means we need to catch this freak before he ‘Creature From the Black Lagoon’s somebody,” Dean said.

“So, you guys are like Mulder and Scully or something? And the X-Files are real?” Jamie asked.

“No, the X-Files is a TV show,” Dean said a little snotty. “ _This_ is real.”

“Oh.”

“Okay, so...he’s using costumes and making special effects, weirdo accents-” you started.

“It’s like he’s trying to reenact his favorite monster movie moments, right down to the bloody murders,” Sam finished.

“Wait a second. Who the hell is Mina?” Jamie asked.

“Mina?” you and Sam asked. Your mind immediately turned to Dracula.

“Yeah. That’s what he called Jamie. And he called me ‘Mr. Harker’,” Dean said.

“Jonathan Harker?” Sam asked and Dean gave him a look that said ‘How the hell am I supposed to know?’

“They’re characters from Dracula, Dean. Novel and movies. Mina is Drac’s intended bride, the one he’s obsessed with. Harker is her actual fiance, the obstacle to Vlad’s infatuation.” You turned your eyes on the blond. “Seems like he’s fixated on _you_ , sweetheart, sees you as his bride.”

“Wow. Lucky me,” Jamie responded sarcastically.

“But to fixate on you, my guess is that the shifter has to have seen you before or been around you,” Sam suggested.

Dean leaned forward. “Jamie, has anybody strange come to town, somebody that has taken a specific notice of you?”

“Besides _you_?” you snapped at Dean, who glared up at you.

“I don’t know, Dean. It’s Oktoberfest, I’m a bartender. There’s lots of people. I…” She shook her head and looked down. “Wait a second. There _is_ Ed.”

“Ed Brewer, Ed?” Sam asked. You recognized the name of the first witness, even if you were drinking ouzo when they questioned him.

“Yeah. He moved here about a month ago. Lucy swears he has a crush on me.” You resisted the urge to say, ‘Everyone does’ as she continued. “He comes in almost every night. But, you know, I don’t think he’s the type of guy-”

“Where does Ed live?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know. But he works at the old movie theater. I think he’s the projectionist there.”

Dean nodded like everything made perfect sense and jutted his thumb at the door. “Take care of Mina?” Sam asked, looking your way as you started to leave without a word. Sam followed you, catching up outside of the bar. “You can’t-”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Sam. Just don’t.”

“You think being snarky is going to endear you to him?”

You turned and looked up into his eyes. “I think nothing is going to endear me to him. Selling my soul and being tortured for him didn’t endear me to him so what the fuck does it matter if I _snark_ at him about his idiotic conquest of the week?! What does any of this matter?” You shook your head and stomped away from him. “Let’s just go.”

Sam just watched as you walked away toward the movie theater.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your pining sickness (and you were so loath to call it that) sneaked back slowly over the days following the shifter in Canonsburg. You weren’t eating. You were constantly tired, probably because you couldn't stomach food. Your head felt like it was clamped in a vice...but you worked anyway. You followed Sam and Dean to check on the body of the man, Frank O’brien, who dropped dead of a heart attack, despite the fact that he was a perfectly healthy middle-aged man. You managed to avoid the spleen juice by staying near the door. You didn’t want to be close to the body. You wanted to be at the hotel, but you wouldn’t let yourself hold back from your job. Not completely. After all, the job was really all you had these days.

The sheriff let the three of you in on the fact that Frank was a friend of his from way back in high school, that they were on a softball team together, and that Frank had been “real jumpy” before his death...all while obsessively slathering his hands with Purell. Frank had gone from jittery to terrified to dead, just like the other two victims.

Nervous, just like Dean when confronted with a small group of skater teens, and at Mark Hutchins’ house, practically shaking in his seat as the man’s snakes slithered around him, and in the car on the way back to the hotel that night when he was driving the speed limit and refusing to do anything remotely risky as he drove. You had already emailed Bobby for information before the EMF reader started responding to Dean’s very presence.

“I haven’t heard of anybody having ghost sickness in years,” you said the next morning when Bobby called back.

“It’s been a couple hundred years, but it’s definitely what Dean’s got,” Bobby’s voice said over the speaker of your phone.

“Okay, so that gives us...forty-eight hours starting yesterday morning at the morgue,” Sam said. “Bobby, see if you can find anything for us.”

“Yeah, I’ll get back to you.”

Sam looked over at you as the line went dead. “We’re gonna save him.”

“You will. I’m not worried,” you lied. You were worried. You were sick. You were tired...but what could you even begin to do about it?

You followed Sam to the hotel, the first chords of ‘Eye of the Tiger’ hit your ears. Dean was lying in the front seat of the Impala, playing air drums. Sam walked over and banged on the roof, making Dean jump and sit up to catch his breath before turning off the radio and getting out of the car.

“Look at this,” he panted out, showing off the scratch marks on his left forearm.

“We just talked to Bobby,” Sam said, handing the box of donuts to Dean who sniffed them and tossed it into the car. Sam looked confused by the fact that Dean hadn’t even opened the box. “Um, well, you’re not gonna like it.”

“What?” Dean asked.

“It’s ghost sickness,” you answered.

“Ghost sickness?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Sam confirmed.

“God, no,” Dean said.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Dean admitted.

“Okay. Some cultures believe that certain spirits can infect the living with a disease, which is why they stopped displaying bodies in houses and started taking them off to funeral homes,” Sam explained.

“Okay, get to the good stuff,” Dean demanded, anxiously.

You looked at your boots. “Ghost sickness progresses like so: You get anxious, then scared, then _really_ scared, then your heart stops. Sounds familiar, right?”

“Yeah, but we haven’t seen a ghost in weeks,” Dean argued.

“Well, I doubt you even caught it from a ghost. Look, once a spirit infects that first person, ghost sickness can spread like any sickness...through a cough, a handshake, whatever. It's like the flu. Now, Frank O'Brien was the first to die, which means he was probably the first infected. Patient Zero," Sam suggested.

"Our very own Outbreak monkey."

“Yeah. We called around and found out that Frank was at a softball tournament in Maumee over the weekend. He had to have infected our other vics there,” you explained.

"Were they Gamecocks?" Dean attempted to joke, but the fear was evident in his voice shaking..

"Cornjerkers." Sam replied.

"So, ghost infected Frank. He passed it on to the other guys and I got it from his corpse?"

"Right."

"So, now what, I have forty-eight hours before I go insane and my heart stops?" Dean's voice was desperate.

“More like twenty-four,” Sam said, trying to let Dean down easy.

“Super,” Dean snapped.

“Yeah.”

“Well, why me? Why not you?” Dean asked. “I mean, you got hit with the spleen juice.”

You shared a look with Sam and turned away from him. You were the one who noticed the similarities between the vics of the ghost sickness but you weren’t going to be the one who let Dean know he was going to die because he was an asshole.

“Yeah, um, see, we have a theory about _that_ , too. Turns out all three victims shared a certain, uh...personality type. Frank was a bully. The other two victims, one was a vice principal, the other was a bouncer.” Sam said it like he was daring Dean to jump to the conclusion by himself. But Dean didn’t get there.

“Okay?”

“Basically, they were dicks,” Sam finished.

“So, you’re saying I’m a dick?” Dean asked, offended.

“No, no, no, it’s not just that. All three victims used fear as a weapon and now the disease is returning the favor,” Sam covered.

“I don’t scare people,” Dean argued.

“Dean, all we _do_ is scare people,” Sam said.

“Okay, well, then you’re a dick too,” Dean responded when he realized he couldn’t argue it.

“Apparently, I’m not,” Sam answered.

“Not within the parameters of this disease, anyway,” you snapped. Dean was too worried to catch it, but Sam swallowed thickly and looked away.

“Whatever. How do we stop it?”

“We gank the ghost that started all this. We do that, the disease should clear up,” Sam answered.

“We thinkin’ Frank’s wife?”

Sam shrugged. “Who knows why she offed herself, ya know?”

“Why are you out here in the car, anyway?” you asked.

Dean looked over at the hotel. “Our room’s on the fourth floor,” he said like it explained everything. “It...it’s high,” he finished.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’ll see if I can move us down to the first.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, gratefully.

“Sure.” Sam rolled his eyes before he walked away and you followed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You slipped easily into the caregiver role as Dean’s fear took off like a jet engine. You were omega, maybe you could calm him. It’s not like you were in a good condition to go with Sam to find out where Frank’s wife was buried. You sat at the little coffee table, reading up on ghost sickness lore while Dean sat at a desk across the room at the dining table under the starburst clock. You made sure he was eating and gave him a drink when he started coughing. He bristled every time you spoke to him or tried to help him, anger seeping into the panic creeping through his scent.

“Do you _have_ to do that?” he snapped as you set a glass of water in front of him.

“What? Are you mad I’m help-”

“Why are you here?” Dean snapped, backhanding the glass off of the table. “Why are you here with me instead of with your alpha?! Your _real_ alpha, by the way, not the one that conned himself into-”

“John marked me because he _had_ to, you prick!” you snapped back, dropping to your knees to pick up pieces of wet glass. “He marked me because it was that or I go to Sam as soon as I went into heat and Sam lost his fucking mind when he was off with Ruby using his demon powers!”

“He didn’t have to-”

You jumped up and stomped to the trash can. “I was _not_ going to let my biology send me into the arms of the alpha that held me down and marked me by force, Dean, so the options were John or cutting the mark out.” You tossed the shards of the cup into the trash and pulled your shirt away from your neck on Sam’s side. He rubbed at his eyes and stood to get close enough to examine your scars. “I knew exactly how far I needed to go to fix what Sam did to me. John wouldn’t let me.”

He looked confused for a minute before he stepped closer. “You...tried to…” You fixed your shirt and stomped away from him. “Y/n.”

“You shouldn’t care. Don’t worry about it. Unfortunately, Sam’s keeping me alive right now so I guess it’s for the best. Go read and cough,” you snapped. Dean looked lost for a minute before he nodded and turned back to the table. You grabbed him another drink of water, this time in a disposable plastic cup, and set it in front of him before going to sit on the couch and read.

“Thank you,” he whispered. You just nodded and focused on saving him. He didn’t bring it up again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was down to the wire, but things with the Winchesters always were. When Dean’s hallucinations went past whatever drove him to smash the clock and progressed to whatever made him think Sam was possessed, you and Sam both knew it was time to get Bobby out to help. You sat on the hood of the Impala and sighed, tapping your foot against the bumper. You hated how much better you felt in Sam’s presence, how the knots in your stomach seemed to loosen and your muscles seemed to relax. When he offered you a protein bar, you were actually able to choke it down.

Bobby pulled up in his Chevelle and walked out. “Howdy, kids,” he said, walking up.

“Hey, Bobby,” Sam said, slipping off of the hood. “Thanks for coming so quick.”

“Where’s Dean?”

“Home sick.”

“So, have his hallucinations started yet?” Bobby asked, leaning against the hood.

“Yesterday. They got real bad a few hours ago,” you answered.

“How we doin’ on time?” Bobby asked.

“We saw the coroner about 8am Monday morning, so, uh...just under two hours,” Sam answered, checking his watch.

“What about you? You find anything?” you asked.

Bobby handed Sam the book he had on hand. “This, uh, encyclopedia of spirits dates to the Edo period.” You recognized the book, but you’d never learned to read it.

Sam flipped through the book. “You can read Japanese?”

“Kimi nanka umareru mae kara, zuttoda yo,” Bobby said, smugly.

“Guess so. Show off,” Sam responded.

"Anyway, this book lists a kind of ghost that could be our guy. It, uh, infects people with fear. It's called a buru buru," Bobby said.

“How do we kill it?” you asked.

“Same as always: burn the remains.”

“Not an option,” you said.

“Wonderful. Uh...is there a Plan B?” Sam asked.

"Well, the buru buru is born of fear. Hell, it _is_ fear. And the lore says we can kill it with fear."

"So, we have to scare a ghost to death?" Sam asked.

"Pretty much."

"How the hell we gonna do that?" Sam asked, exasperated.

You licked your lips and sighed, jumping off the hood. “I have a bad idea. Got any iron chains, Bobby?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean handed a beer to Sam and offered one to you and Bobby. You both shook your heads. “So, you guys road-hauled a ghost with a chain?” he asked, a mix of impressed and confused in his tone.

“ _Iron_ chain, etched with spellwork,” Sam confirmed.

Dean hummed. “That’s a new one.” He took a drink of his beer.

“It was what he was most afraid of. It _was_ pretty brutal though,” Sam said, smiling.

“On the upside, I’m still alive so, uh, go team!” Dean cheered.

"Yeah. How you feeling, by the way?" Sam asked.

"Fine,” Dean answered quickly.

"You sure, Dean? 'Cause this line of work can get awful scary,” Bobby teased.

"I'm _fine_. You wanna go hunting? I'll hunt. I'll kill anything."

Sam and Bobby looked at each other before they burst out laughing and Sam said, “Awww.”

“He's adorable." Bobby said. Dean rolled his eyes and took a drink of his beer as everyone laughed at him. "I got to get out of here. You kids drive safe."

"You too, Bobby. Hey, thanks," Sam said, as Bobby got into his Chevelle and drove off. Sam looked over at Dean then at his feet as he kicked some pebbles on the ground. "So, uh...so, what did you see? Near the end, I mean."

"Oh, besides a cop beating my ass?" Dean deflected.

"Seriously."

Dean looked at you. His eyes settled on your neck for a minute, sending nerves through you, before he focused on Sam. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, then looked away. “Howler monkeys. Whole roomful of ‘em. Those things creep the hell out of me.”

"Right," Sam muttered, taking another drink of beer.

"No. Just the usual stuff, Sammy. Nothing I can't handle." Dean took another drink. “Sure you don’t want a beer, Y/n?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Y’all enjoy.” You walked around to the opposite side of the car and climbed in, leaning your head back. You were hoping he wouldn’t say anything about what you told him when you thought he was dying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He probably thinks it was a hallucination,” you whispered to Sam when you got to the next town and the next motel. Dean was exhausted. He hadn’t been able to sleep while he was sick with fear so he was passed out while you and Sam sat together, right beside each other on the other bed and looked for a new job. You weren’t very happy to be so close to him, but it was the only thing that provided you any relief now. “I didn’t mean to tell him. It just happened.”

“Maybe he _should_ know, ya know?” Sam suggested, quietly. “I mean, I’m not looking forward to how pissed off he’s gonna be about it, but...it’s better than him talking all that crap about you and Dad.”

“It’s just talk. It’s not hurting anyone.”

“It’s hurting me...because it’s hurting _you_ ,” he responded and you rolled your eyes.

“You didn’t care about hurting me when you did it, Sam,” you snapped.

“I--Y/n, I wasn’t trying to-” he cut himself off and turned to you. “I thought I was doing what was best for both of us, Y/n. Dean wanted us together, you know he did.”

“When did what _I_ want stop mattering?” you hissed. “If it were up to me, I’d be single and happy in Sioux Falls, but you got high and took my choice! And then John ran off without me after he promised to fix things so I wouldn’t ever need the knothead alpha who took my freedom from me! So, here I am...stuck with you and your brother. I can’t even go _home_ because I don’t think I’d make it there before the rejection takes me, so fuck you, Sam. Fuck you. Fuck John. Fuck Dean for encouraging you. I wish I hadn’t ever met you assholes!” You were a bit louder than you intended as you forced yourself out of the bed and out of the room.

You didn’t make it across the parking lot before you started feeling nauseated. You pulled out your phone and dialed John. "Please call me back, John. I...I don't feel good and I...it's gotta be coming up on your rut, so you can't be feelin' good either so...God, please call me. Just...just let me hear your voice, please!" No response came, but you weren’t really expecting one.

The only thing that your brain would conjure was a deep feeling of abandonment. Rejection. Pining. Sickness. Weakness. Stupid omega weakness. You sat on a bench outside of the motel office and leaned your head back. “Maybe I should go back to the Underworld. I won’t feel like this in Elysium...and I can drink from Lethe, forget about all of them...forget about everything.”

"Sounds like a plan. I fully endorse it."

Your tired eyes raised to see a small woman in a black leather jacket. Small, brunette, bitchy, omega. "Ruby," you accused, forcing yourself to stand and put up a brave front. "Why do you always show up when I'm-"

"Crying alone on park benches? Because that's the only time you're alone, bitch." She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. "What, can't show them how sick and depressed you are?"

"Shut up." You shook your head.

"Daddy Winchester couldn't hack it so he took off again. Ya know, last time he did that, he brought down Azazel on your whole fucked-up pack. What do you think he's gonna have on his tail when he comes back this time?"

"Is there a point to this, or are you just here to throw stones at the twice-dead omega? If so, you're a little early on that, but give it a few days."

She took a deep breath and looked back toward the room before turning her eyes on you. "I can get the mark off of you."

"What?"

"Sam's mark. The one you don't even _want_...I used to be a witch. I know a spell that can remove it."

A hundred thoughts flashed through you but two settled at the forefront; How would Ruby benefit from removing the mark from you and how fast would you wither and die if you didn't have Sam combating your rejection sickness?

"As much as I'd like to trust that you have my best interests at heart, you're an evil skank and I don't trust you in the least. I'd take that ferry ride before I let you perform any magic on me."

"Don't be stubborn, Y/n. I'm trying to help you."

You shook your head. "You're trying to help _you_."

“How does that even make sense?” she grumbled as you started to walk away.

“Nothing about you makes sense.” You stumbled a few times as you walked back to the motel room. Your eyes went wide as you opened the door to see obvious signs of a struggle. Body impact holes in the walls, overturned lamps, the flatscreen on the floor, Sam sitting on the bed with an ice pack pressed to his cheek, Dean across the room wrapping gauze around his knuckles. “What hap-”

“It’s fine,” Sam said, removing the pack to reveal his severely bruised cheekbone. “I deserved it.” His eyes flashed to Dean, who specifically avoided looking anywhere besides his knuckles. “I’m...uh...gonna go shower.” He smiled a half-grimace at you and limped toward the bathroom as you started to clean up the mess from their fight.

Dean finished wrapping his knuckles and made a fist with each hand, flexing his fingers to ensure there were no problems before turning to glare at you from his peripheral vision. “You let me think…” he started, his voice deep and angry. “You were gonna _continue_ letting me think that you just regretted it after a night with Sam that got out of hand.”

You bit your bottom lip and swallowed as you picked the surprisingly not smashed TV from the ground and lifted it up to where it belongs. “You thought what you thought. I just didn’t correct you.”

“Why?” he growled and you shivered. “Why did you wait until you thought I was about to bite it again before you told me that Dad only marked you to save you from Sam? Why did you want me to-”

“Because John and I both had to deal with knowing what Sam became when you died!” You turned on the television to see if the screen still worked before licking your lips. “I’m the only one who knows what you went through in Hell, Dean. I knew you were going to need Sam. You weren’t going to lean on me. You weren’t going to lean on John or Bobby, you needed _Sam_ so why would I put you on a collision course with him?!” His jaw twitched as you turned to look at him. “I was willing to endure the torture of Hell for you, you really think I’m gonna shy away from a few bitchy comments about my marks?”

“You should have told me,” he said, quietly.

“You didn’t need to know.” You took a deep breath and shook your head. “You found out and destroyed the room and half of Sam’s face. I was supposed to tell you when you were fresh from Hell and _less_ stable?”

“You think I didn’t need to know that Sam forced his mark on you? Because I was fragile or something?”

“Does it _help_ you to know? Does it help to know that your brother got high and I had to fight him off in my home?” His lips curled into a snarl. “I decided to keep it from you so that you wouldn’t have that _image_ in your head. That picture of your baby brother...sweet floppy-haired Sammy, running down the woman who, in the _very_ least, is your childhood friend and holding her down so that he could sink his teeth into her.”

You walked over to pick up the lamp with the broken bulb and set it on the nightstand. “Because he didn’t wait until I was incapacitated by heat like he did in the Trickster’s world. He gave me no other choice than to fight him off and try to fix it with a scalpel, which I was more than ready to do, but John wouldn’t let me. I started to cut it out, but he found me and wouldn’t let me finish. He _promised_ we’d find another way to fix what Sam did, but the only way to fix it was this.” You gestured at the other side of your neck and shrugged.

“If John stays gone much longer, I’ll have to cut _his_ mark out to survive...cut out both sides, be my own person again.”

“That could kill you,” he said, quietly.

“So could relying on the Winchesters.”

Dean looked away as the shower turned off. He couldn’t even argue it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You reluctantly slept in Sam’s bed, above the covers with a pillow between you. It was the only way you felt even a little comfortable. You barely slept and when you did, you dreamed of Dean...but even your dreams knew that there was no hope.

“ _You’re never gonna have my mark, Y/n. Dad ruined you, Sammy destroyed you. You aren’t worth a minute of my time, you delusional bitch._ ”

You woke to the sound of the lock being picked. You pulled your gun out from under your pillow and aimed it at the door, but you set it aside as the smell of lavender, orange, and ylang-ylang came through the seams around the doorjamb. “John!” you exclaimed, jumping off the bed and rushing for the door. Sam and Dean both woke as every bit of depression, rejection and sickness disappeared in the proximity of your alpha. You pulled the door open and threw your arms around his neck as his sons sat up and rubbed at the sleep in their eyes. “I missed you so much, Alpha!” you whispered into John’s neck as his arms wrapped around your body.

“Missed you, too, darlin’,” he whispered back. You could smell that he was approaching his rut. You knew that that’s why he was back, but it didn’t matter. You were just so happy to have him back.


End file.
